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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648002">I'll Be Your Paradise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hvanwoong/pseuds/hvanwoong'>hvanwoong</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ONEUS (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Angels &amp; Demons, Angel Corruption, Angel Youngjo, Corruption, Crying, Deepthroating, Degradation, Demon Hwanwoong, Dom/sub, Enemies and Lovers, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slut Shaming, Smut, surprisingly soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:07:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,864</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hvanwoong/pseuds/hvanwoong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eternal youths, eternal enemies, and eternal lovers.</p><p>They do this dance every few years. Angel Youngjo is a fixer, sent in when things reach their very worst. As a town tears itself apart with lust and depravity, he knows the culprit. It fills him with excitement. Demon Hwanwoong will know he is coming.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'll Be Your Paradise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello tomoons ^-^ I did a thing today. This is an idea I’ve had bouncing around forever and I was having a bit of a struggle with my ongoing works so I decided to try something different, and the words just fell out. Please be mindful of everything in the tags and enjoy responsibly &lt;3</p><p>Title is taken from BTS Pied Piper: 'You're not being punished, come here, I'm your paradise'</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is a part of him, somewhere beneath his chest but above his navel, in the little hollow below his ribcage, that twinges with anticipation. It is nerves married with excitement, the sort of sensation that an angel absolutely shouldn’t be feeling as they seek out the local demon.</p><p>Demons can be dangerous. The nerves are to be expected. Heading into a territory that is hostile to him is familiar to Youngjo; he is the <em>fixer</em>, the angel sent in when things reach their very worst and can no longer be managed from afar. It rarely gets that far. Most demons are pragmatists, lovers of chaos but also of self-preservation, and they cause just enough disorder to have their fun without pushing a city – a town – a family – to the point that the heavenly host sends in the big guns.</p><p>Youngjo is considered one of the big guns.</p><p>Once upon a time, it might have seemed ridiculous. For a long while, Youngjo did not strike the fear of God into others. He was softly spoken and quiet and the other angels even called him pretty. Over time, though, he became a force to be reckoned with. Now, people murmur his name with respect and a little fear. He can be sharp when he wants to, and he is horribly powerful – the sort of powerful that the other angels in the host can only dream of. He has worked hard, trained with diligence in every detail of his craft, and now he is sent to deal with the most troublesome of demons.</p><p>Most of them move on quietly without a fight, the gene for self-preservation kicking in. Every once in a while, though, the confrontation can turn nasty, and that is why there are always nerves.</p><p>But the excitement?</p><p><em>Oh </em>the excitement.</p><p>That is what could get him into trouble if anyone were to find out about it.</p><p>The excitement is borne from one simple fact: he can usually tell when it is going to be Hwanwoong.</p><p>Youngjo has been doing his job for so many human lifetimes that he’s lost track on a number, but he still remembers the very first time that he met the demon. Hwanwoong was a <em>nightmare</em>, and Youngjo’s dizziest dream.</p><p>At the time, Youngjo was younger. They both were. The world was.</p><p>Even by then, he’d been good for so long already, the archetype of an angel, so it was hardly a surprise that a part of him was craving danger too. He’d been sent to resolve an explosive situation in a small town, a <em>situation</em>that was on the verge of burning the whole place to the ground in a vicious cyclone of hatred. There, on his mission, Youngjo saw Hwanwoong for the first time.</p><p>Hwanwoong was the personification of chaos, even cruel. But he was also transfixing, and fascinating, and everything that Youngjo dreamed about at night. His darkest fantasy.</p><p>Nonetheless, Youngjo got rid of him, of course. Forced him to slink away back into the shadows. He has always been nothing if not diligent. But not before getting the other thing that he wanted from him first, that Hwanwoong was so happy to give him.</p><p>And so they have gone on, throughout the years. They encounter each other fairly regularly, rarely more than a couple of years apart. They are both high-ranking in their respective fields, after all.</p><p>Eternal youths, eternal enemies, and eternal lovers.</p><p>Youngjo knows all of his trademarks, and he knew from the moment this case was passed on to him that it would <em>probably </em>be Hwanwoong causing the chaos. The news reports have his fingerprints all over them.</p><p>‘Vice… and debauchery… and lascivious depravity…’ Youngjo reads aloud one of the headlines from his own recollection, and Hwanwoong turns, having been admiring the skyline with a small smile. ‘Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re behind it all?’ he continues, tiling his chin up as though to give the impression of a greater height advantage. This sort of scene is the only time that he gets to <em>look down </em>at Hwanwoong. By the end of the evening, he knows that he’ll be looking up at him.</p><p>‘Long words,’ says Hwanwoong. ‘Cute.’</p><p>‘Can’t you just enjoy your arson and gang fights like the rest of your kind?’</p><p>‘But my brand is so much more fun!’ says Hwanwoong in a petulant tone. ‘You know better than anyone that lust is my sin of choice.’</p><p>‘Well you can’t play with it here anymore. Get out of my city.’</p><p>It is very dark, the rooftop of the warehouse lit by a combination of the moonlight and the windows that still have their lights on. Most of the streetlights are bust. The area has an air of abandonment about it. Still, Youngjo can see enough of Hwanwoong’s face. He doesn’t look so different from when they last met, but perhaps his hair is a little lighter and a little slicker, a few strands falling over his forehead and touching at his eyelashes.</p><p>Youngjo can’t help the way that his heart skips and his stomach seems to flip over. Excitement replaces the nerves in their entirety.</p><p>His favourite thing about occupying his human vessel for these journeys is the <em>sensation</em>. Everything in a human body is visceral, the skin sensitive to the slightest change in the air. He feels the hair rise on his arms just in Hwanwoong’s presence, and the strange buzzing in his abdomen from a fight or flight response that has settled on <em>stay</em>.</p><p>Hwanwoong laughs. ‘Or what, darling?’</p><p>‘Or I’ll take you to meet the higher ups.’</p><p>‘Oh I’d love to see you try to cage me.’ There’s an allure in his voice that makes Youngjo shift on the spot. That’s another thing about the human body. It’s very difficult to keep still. For a moment, they hold each other’s gaze, and then Hwanwoong smiles. ‘Did you miss me, angel?’</p><p>‘No.’</p><p>‘Try again, only this time with a <em>little </em>more conviction. At least make this part fun.’</p><p>Youngjo bites his lip hard, fists clenching at his sides. ‘I hate you.’</p><p>‘Hate you too.’</p><p>‘I want you gone in the morning,’ he snaps.</p><p>Hwanwoong cocks his head to one side. ‘Can’t you give me <em>one </em>more day? Since you’re going to be occupying most of my night?’</p><p>‘<em>Gone in the morning</em>,’ repeats Youngjo through gritted teeth.</p><p>Hwanwoong strolls across the rooftop until they are only a couple of feet apart. He is dressed to impress, but in a convincingly human kind of way. He is clad in black jeans that cling to his thighs, and a nondescript white shirt and a velvet jacket that Youngjo knows he has stolen. Even his boots are nice – snakeskin and shiny.</p><p>‘Alright, sweetheart,’ Hwanwoong sighs. ‘If it means that much to you.’</p><p>‘Good.’</p><p>‘<em>Now </em>will you admit that you missed me?’ Hwanwoong breathes and he finally closes the rest of the distance between them. He reaches up a hand to stroke down Youngjo’s cheek, and Youngjo doesn’t pull away. ‘Because I missed you.’</p><p>Youngjo closes his eyes, letting his face turn into Hwanwoong’s touch. He’s always loved the feeling of Hwanwoong’s hands – his demon skin is a little warmer than Youngjo’s. ‘I missed you,’ he sighs. It’s a confession, and shame is a rough, cold stone in his stomach that scratches when he moves.</p><p>Hwanwoong thumbs over his brow, the backs of his fingers still caressing his cheek. ‘I made some extra chaos just so that I could be sure they’d send you this time.’</p><p>‘I know, I could tell. It was sweet, by the way, like you were sending me a love letter.’</p><p>With a sound of great offense, Hwanwoong pulls back. ‘I’m not <em>sweet</em>. You need me to remind you?’</p><p>‘Maybe.’</p><p>With a snap of Hwanwoong’s fingers, the rooftop is gone.</p><p>Youngjo looks around, blinking for a second as he clears his head after the travel. They are stood in a small hotel room, in as much of a state of disrepair as the warehouse where he’d found Hwanwoong. The bed is made but the sheets are off centre and there is nothing decorative about it, only two flat pillows and a threadbare tan spread that has seen better dares. Against one wall is an outdated box TV, and against the other a nightstand with a wired telephone. The wallpaper is peeling, but Youngjo thinks that’s better for the room because the pattern itself is grim.</p><p>‘Nice place for it,’ he says, a little drily. He knows that Hwanwoong has brought him here to unsettle him, but he doesn’t want to let it show on his face. In the past, Hwanwoong has indulged him often with luxurious hotel rooms and on recent occasion, an empty beach under a star-spattered sky. If Hwanwoong thinks that a seedy hotel room is enough to make him waver, then he doesn’t know Youngjo well enough at all. He stands up straight and looks around with an expression of disdain.</p><p>‘I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself,’ shrugs Hwanwoong. He sprawls back on the bed and throws his arms out to the side. It’s a position vulnerable to attack, but he knows that Youngjo won’t try to take him here. ‘Why, don’t you like it? Too dirty for you?’</p><p>‘You’re too dirty for me,’ mutters Youngjo.</p><p>For so long, too long to remember, he has argued with himself about Hwanwoong. The longer than they are apart, the more perspective he gains, the more horrified he becomes. The longer they are apart, though, the more desperate he is too, like an addict imprisoned in a cell far from the next fix. If Hwanwoong is a drug then he takes it gladly, and perhaps he’ll never be judged for his sins: it’s not a habit of his kind to die. He watches Hwanwoong, the demon playing with the buttons of his jacket, and feels the familiar cloud taking over his mind.</p><p>Hwanwoong is intoxicating.</p><p>The demon props himself up on his elbows and nods to him, dragging his eyes up and down his body. ‘I like this vessel. It suits you.’</p><p>‘Meanwhile you haven’t changed a bit.’  </p><p>‘Let me see you, Youngjo,’ he says, and his voice turns low and firm. ‘Undress for me.’</p><p>Youngjo follows the instruction like a heavenly command. He unbuttons his tan woollen coat and slides it from his shoulders, then pulls his blue sweater over his head. The whole time, Hwanwoong holds his gaze, and his eyes flash black and red. Youngjo slips off his shoes, socks, thinking for a moment how strange it will always be to occupy a human form like this and be bound by such materials, and then he starts to unbutton his shirt.</p><p>‘I love the way you do what I tell you to,’ sighs Hwanwoong.</p><p>‘It’s for me, not for you.’</p><p>‘Keep telling yourself that, angel.’</p><p>Youngjo drops his shirt and then hesitates, closing his eyes to ignore the way that Hwanwoong is raking his eyes across his skin, before slipping free from the rest of his clothes. He keeps his eyes shut, skin tingling in the cool air of the room, and exhales a very shaky breath. Aware that Hwanwoong is moving around the room, he tenses up, but then forces himself to relax. Of one thing, in spite of everything, he is certain: Hwanwoong would never hurt him.</p><p>When he opens his eyes, Hwanwoong is right in front of him and his heart skips a beat.</p><p>This, he enjoys about being in a human body. The way it reacts to the smallest things, the way he can feel his pulse quicken and his skin turn hot and the way that lightning in his navel arouses a unique kind of need in his body. There is nothing like it in his other forms. Inches from his face, Hwanwoong licks his lips and reaches up to touch his throat, fingertips stroking over the swell of his Adam’s apple. ‘Look at the way you respond to me,’ says Hwanwoong, and he grazes his fingers down over his chest, featherlight.</p><p>Youngjo’s body reacts. Blood rushes south, his skin shivers.</p><p>Hwanwoong hasn’t removed any of his clothes. ‘I barely touch you and you tremble.’</p><p>‘Need you,’ says Youngjo, and it’s a pathetic sound.</p><p>‘How long has it been?’</p><p>‘Too long,’ he whispers.</p><p>‘You remember the important stuff, though?’ Hwanwoong asks with a fiendish grin. ‘You remember how good it makes you feel to be bad? You remember why you always, <em>always </em>come to me?’</p><p>‘I remember,’ Youngjo swallows. His mouth is dry and his throat crackles, all human sensations.</p><p>It’s wrong. He knows that it’s wrong. But it always feels so right.</p><p>‘You remember what to say if you want me to stop?’</p><p>That part makes Youngjo half-smile. Hwanwoong likes to wreak havoc wherever he goes, but he treats Youngjo like something precious. Hwanwoong might be Youngjo’s weakness, but Youngjo knows full well that he is Hwanwoong’s weakness too. It’s a vulnerability that makes the demon more attractive.</p><p>‘I remember.’</p><p>‘Then if you need me so much, show me what you’re worth,’ says Hwanwoong. His voice turns cool, unemotional, and he reaches up a hand to knot in Youngjo’s hair and push him down. Youngjo falls to his knees, swallowing as he looks up at him, human sweat forming on his neck. ‘And I might let you have me.’</p><p>Without hesitation, Youngjo lifts shaky fingers and pulls down the zipper on Hwanwoong’s jeans. His mouth starts to water. It’s shameful, so shameful that heat crawls from his lower back up his spine and all the way to his hairline. The thought crosses his mind that he’d lose his place in the heavenly host, if someone were to find him here, and that makes his skin feel hotter. His hands tremble, and he swallows before meeting his eyes.</p><p>‘Don’t look at me, baby,’ murmurs Hwanwoong, and his tone is patronising. ‘Look at what you’re doing.’</p><p>Youngjo nods rapidly before pulling down Hwanwoong’s jeans, his sleek black briefs, and he takes in the sight of his cock. Youngjo could worship him, worship his body, could establish his own shrine for all that is Hwanwoong. He takes his soft cock into his hands, works it with quick strokes until Hwanwoong lets out a sigh and starts to harden up. His fingers knot tighter in Youngjo’s hair, pulling hard enough that some strands pluck free and his scalp stings.</p><p>‘Go on,’ Hwanwoong tells him.</p><p>With a steadying breath, Youngjo lowers his lips down to Hwanwoong’s thick length and presses a kiss to the side of his shaft. Hwanwoong shivers, but gives a jerk on his hair that tells him to hurry it up. Youngjo parts his lips and touches his tongue over the swollen head of his cock, licking with the tip of his tongue until he tastes the salt of precum. He wants to impress Hwanwoong, wants to show that he can be patient and calm. Sliding his tongue sideways along his slit, Hwanwoong hisses and pulls on his hair again.</p><p>‘I didn’t tell you to suckle like a little bitch, Youngjo,’ he snaps.</p><p>The words make Youngjo’s cheeks turn scarlet with embarrassment. Immediately, he sinks his mouth down onto his cock, desperate to make up for his failure. He hollows his cheeks, rings his fingers at the base of his length and flattens his tongue along the underside to allow it to slide all the way into his mouth. Hwanwoong grunts and pushes his head further down, until his lips catch his fingers at the base and he chokes around the swelling at his throat. Natural tears spring to his eyes as he gags, and he remembers how much he loves these human sensations.</p><p>‘That’s it,’ says Hwanwoong, and he doesn’t let up his grip. ‘Good boy.’</p><p>Youngjo swallows, tries to move his tongue but he’s choking and the crown of Hwanwoong’s cock is hot at the back of his throat. He pushes against Hwanwoong’s thighs, a tear sliding down his cheek, and splutters when Hwanwoong finally drags his head back by the hair. Saliva drips from Youngjo’s lips and he reaches up his hand to wipe away the tear that fell.</p><p>‘God I wish you had a halo,’ Hwanwoong sighs. ‘I’d hook it right off while you’re down on your knees and put it on myself. I’d love to watch you look up at me with those innocent little eyes, reflecting all that I’ve taken from you.’</p><p>The words send lightning bolts down Youngjo’s body and he lets out a low, desperate sound. There’s no way that a demon should ever be degrading him, but there’s no hiding how his body reacts. His own arousal aches. His cheeks are ruddy red. ‘Let me do more,’ he whimpers pathetically, and Hwanwoong guides his mouth back to his cock with a lazy smile.</p><p>This time, Youngjo is more prepared. He tightens his throat and twists his tongue as he goes, licking along the most prominent vein and squeezing his eyes shut to keep the wetness back. Steadily, he builds a rhythm, bobbing his head up and down and Hwanwoong’s grip turns lax as he lets him do the work. Youngjo sucks, indulging himself in the taste of him and he lets out a muffled cry when Hwanwoong grabs his hair again and pushes his head down all the way. Gagging again, he tightens his hands on Hwanwoong’s muscular thighs and his nails leave crescent-shaped marks. The thrust of his cock is punishing, so punishing that another tear escapes his closed eyes and he chokes as he cries.</p><p>When the pace becomes sloppy, Hwanwoong pulls him off and pushes him backwards with a rough hand. Youngjo falls, naked, back to the floor. His hands splay out just in time to catch himself, and he looks away, ashamed that Hwanwoong has disposed of him.</p><p>‘Get up, angel,’ says Hwanwoong. His voice has turned lower, gravelly with arousal.</p><p>Youngjo scrambles to his feet, off balance. His usually graceful posture evades him and he practically falls to the bed, drunk on Hwanwoong’s presence. He crawls across the cheap sheets, then sits back on his heels. ‘Pathetic,’ says Hwanwoong, but his tone is loaded with appreciation now. ‘Look at your little cock.’</p><p>Youngjo looks down then back up, biting his lip. His own arousal is as big as Hwanwoong’s, aching and swollen red, but he nods in agreement.</p><p>Hwanwoong reaches forward and runs his hand up Youngjo’s chest, warm fingers pinching his nipple in a mean grip at Youngjo lets out a cry. He twists, so roughly that Youngjo actually feels the tug in his body. He jerks forward, and Hwanwoong catches him by the neck, fingers tight but not applying significant pressure. ‘<em>Fuck</em>, I want to mark all over this pretty pure skin of yours.’</p><p>‘Nowhere people will see,’ Youngjo whines, ‘I’ll get into all sorts of trouble.’</p><p>Hwanwoong squeezes just hard enough that Youngjo can feel his own earthly pulse. ‘You’re already in trouble, angel. How stupid does a little angel have to be to go home with a demon?’</p><p>‘Stupid. Really stupid,’ he pants.</p><p>‘Yes,’ Hwanwoong smiles, and he lets go of his throat. ‘Just how I like you: dumb and desperate.’</p><p>‘Who said I’m desperate?’</p><p>‘You will be.’</p><p>Hwanwoong pushes him onto the bed, so roughly that Youngjo does not have time to organise his already tired limbs, because Hwanwoong is soon on top of him and burying his face into his neck. Hwanwoong’s hands search for Youngjo’s as he nips at the skin, somewhere between kisses and bites, and when he catches hold of his wrists he pins them without any slack to the mattress. ‘This too high?’ he says against his throat.</p><p>‘<em>Mm</em>.’</p><p>‘Here?’ Hwanwoong kisses the crook of his neck.</p><p>‘Too high,’ he moans. His voice comes out hoarse, throat sore and dry.</p><p>‘<em>Here</em>?’ he slides his tongue slowly along the line of his clavicle.</p><p>‘There’s good,’ Youngjo chokes.</p><p>Hwanwoong bites the skin, so hard that he cries out again. They’re being loud, but he can’t find it in his to worry. He bites and sucks, leaving purple bruises along his collarbone. Hwanwoong is delectable, small and sharp and if things were different Youngjo would want to do this to him too. But things aren’t different. Hwanwoong flicks at his nipple again and Youngjo’s back arches. So much of his body will be punished tonight, and it’s what he deserves for this sin.</p><p>‘Love making you mine,’ says Hwanwoong.</p><p>‘Love being yours,’ he mumbles back. The world outside these four walls disappears, the heavens and the earth irrelevant.  The stress of his every day, the haunting expanse of time, all becomes insignificant.</p><p>Hwanwoong’s hand wraps rough around his arousal, and Youngjo groans, his spine curving from the bed again. The grip is too tight, so tight that his navel turns over and he lets out a desperate sound. Hwanwoong’s thumb grazes over the head, and a mean smile overtakes his features. ‘You wanted me, didn’t you?’</p><p>‘Yes,’ pants Youngjo, because this pain is better than nothing at all.</p><p>‘Makes me want to edge you, when you’re so pent up like this.’</p><p>‘N-no!’ he gasps.</p><p>Perhaps Hwanwoong senses that his words are serious, because he sits back and strokes his hips with gentle fingers as he meets his eyes. ‘You don’t want that?’</p><p>Youngjo shakes his head. He’s embarrassed, but it has been too long. His heart is pounding, thrashing at his ribcage, and he knows that he won’t be able to last through Hwanwoong’s torture. ‘It’s been too long,’ he whispers, in that same hoarse voice.</p><p>Turning suddenly tender, Hwanwoong nods, and brushes the damp hair from Youngjo’s face. ‘Okay.’</p><p>He adjusts his position and sits between Youngjo’s legs, spreading them with gentler hands. He’s still wearing his shirt, but his hard cock is visible and Youngjo throws his head back against the lopsided pillows, unable to focus. More than once, in the past, Hwanwoong has called him a pillow princess, and the words always make him cringe with humiliation, but it isn’t untrue. After the slightest bit of roughness, he turns to soft putty. ‘<em>Demons don’t turn soft like this</em>,’ Hwanwoong always says, ‘<em>you little angels aren’t built for fun</em>.’</p><p>Youngjo seethes and clenches the sheets as Hwanwoong grazes his nails up his cock; they’re sharpened into points. Then, he pushes his legs further apart and lifts his hips. ‘Make yourself useful, angel,’ he sighs, and with a snap of his fingers Youngjo’s body jerks. Something warm and wet has slid down over the most intimate part of him and Youngjo whimpers; Hwanwoong plays, sometimes, with his magic. He lowers his hands and rubs his forefinger into the wet lubricant. Hwanwoong wants him to stretch himself open; he wants to sit back and watch.</p><p>Eager to obey, Youngjo focusses his mind and rubs a circle over his tight hole. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the darkness, the darkness with which Hwanwoong floods his life every day, and he pushes one finger past his protesting rim. A second soon follows and he scissors himself open, chest sweating at the thought that Hwanwoong is watching. He squeezes his eyes tighter shut and toys with a third finger, trying in some way to make a show of it.</p><p>He gasps when Hwanwoong slaps his hand away, and he withdraws it to his chest with a whimper.</p><p>‘Look at me, angel.’</p><p>Opening his eyes, he swallows and looks at Hwanwoong. The demon’s eyes are scarlet, the way they turn when they’d stained with desire. He hitches Youngjo’s hips up with a vicious grip, so tight he’ll leave bruises, and drags him down the bed to line up their bodies. Prone, on his back like this, Youngjo is aware that the predator could do anything to him. The thought sends sparks across his skin and down through his arousal and he bites his lip so hard it bleeds.</p><p>‘Such a little slut,’ murmurs Hwanwoong, like he’s talking to himself, ‘an angel, spread out for a demon. Isn’t this the sort of thing you damn people for?’</p><p>Youngjo just lets out a noise.</p><p>‘I wonder what the bosses upstairs would think if they knew you were a whore?’</p><p>‘Fuck, Hwanwoong,’ he mewls.</p><p>Hwanwoong lines up his throbbing cock with Youngjo’s hole, and rubs the head steadily around his entrance. It’s teasing, the sort of teasing that Hwanwoong thrives on but that Youngjo cannot cope with today. He clenches his hands on the sheets and lets out a groan as Hwanwoong sheathes inside him, in one fluid motion. It’s too much too quick and Youngjo’s human body can barely take it. The breath is pushed out of him, and he loses grip on the bed instead searching for one of Hwanwoong’s wrists to hold on to. Pain vibrates through his nerves, but there’s pleasure buried underneath the pain.</p><p>‘So fucking tight,’ says Hwanwoong, and he fucks his hips forward, smiling with a row of pointed white teeth when Youngjo cries out. ‘You’re only a slut for me, aren’t you baby? Tight and pure?’</p><p>He nods, gritting his teeth. He’s been alive, if that’s a word that can be applied to someone who would struggle to die, for a very long time, but he’s never given up his body to anyone else. It belongs to Hwanwoong.</p><p>The drag of friction against his walls is one thing, but when Hwanwoong tugs his hips and fucks deeper, his cockhead hits the bundle of nerves deep inside him and he moans aloud, black and gold stars flickering in his vision. His body turns limp on the bed, and he lets Hwanwoong contort him. Hwanwoong’s hand tucks up his thigh and pushes his leg up until it’s almost to his chest, folded, so that he can drill into him with more ease. The position is unrelenting, the pace even worse, and it’s too good. Youngjo’s breath comes out in desperate pants, and he longs to touch his own arousal but he knows he’ll be punished for that and he cannot take a punishment tonight.</p><p>He screams when Hwanwoong digs into his waist and angles straight at his prostate. The stimulation is too much and tears spill from his eyes again. The noises that escape his throat with every thrust are needy, desperate. Beneath them, the unstable bed creaks and groans. There have been times when the wood has splintered, times, even, when they have destroyed a room. Today, this is positively gentle.</p><p>‘Angels…’ grunts Hwanwoong, ‘the only thing you’re good for… being a demon’s pretty cocksleeve…’</p><p>Youngjo’s untouched cock twitches on his stomach and he moans again. He knows that Hwanwoong loves the way he looks. He knows that he’s blessed with divine beauty in whichever human form he takes. The validation, even in this sickly sweet degrading form, makes happy tingles spill over his head. A loose smile falls onto his face and he knows he looks fucked dumb. He lets his lips part, mouth open with pants, as he lays there loose and lets the demon use him.</p><p>‘Woong,’ he mumbles. The word judders out from his lips.</p><p>Hwanwoong’s hand closes on his throat, without pressure, just in a reminder that he should be quiet, and Youngjo bites his tongue. The slap of skin on skin rings around the ugly room. Youngjo’s smooth skin, his angelic face, they’re still beautiful even when there is filth around him. A low glow shimmers from his skin when he starts to lose control. He claws at the mattress, moans and moans and it’s humiliating, if only because of the way Hwanwoong laughs.</p><p>He knows, though, that Hwanwoong is close.</p><p>His breathing has turned unsteady and there’s a desperation to his thrusts. He presses down on Youngjo’s stomach and adjusts his posture so that he can piston his hips against him. With every jerk, Youngjo’s head hits the headboard, but the stars that cover his vision are from nothing but the feeling of Hwanwoong pulsing inside him. One last thrust, and Hwanwoong spills inside him, his head thrown back to reveal the ragged line of his throat, prominent Adam’s apple bulging.</p><p>The wet heat inside his body makes Youngjo feel dirty, and that makes his arousal ache all the worse. All of the movement, though, halts, as Hwanwoong pants his way down from his high. ‘Fuck, Youngjo,’ he groans, and he rotates his hips just a little. Youngjo moans for more. As his cock starts to soften, Hwanwoong slowly slides out and Youngjo shivers as hot come trickles down his skin.</p><p>‘P-please,’ he whimpers.</p><p>‘Please what?’ says Hwanwoong, in a low, unsteady voice. He sits back and tilts his neck from side to side. The bones click, and he stretches up his arms, revealing all of the lines of his lean body.</p><p>‘Please can I come too?’ he says, and a sting at the corner of his eyes threatens more tears. His body is on fire. There’s pain and pleasure and every sensation in between.</p><p>Hwanwoong surveys him as he pulls his clothes back on, with a smirk. ‘You think you deserve it? You think you deserve anything from me?’</p><p>‘Please,’ he whispers. Electricity crackles on his skin, his power brought to earth and he’s at risk of losing control. ‘Please, Hwanwoong.’</p><p>‘Beg, pretty.’</p><p>‘Please, <em>please - </em>’</p><p>Hwanwoong laughs and settles back on the edge of the bed. He brushes his hand along Youngjo’s crotch and wraps a hand around the base of his cock before lowering his head and giving a slow, experimental lick along the length of his shaft. Youngjo curses, language an angel should never speak aloud, and Hwanwoong laughs. It’s like tinkling glass. He fists his length twice, the friction making Youngjo’s back crinkle. The energy on his skin sparks again, visible with bright light.</p><p>Giving in to the obvious desperation, Hwanwoong rolls his eyes and runs his tongue once more along his length before finishing him with the jerks of his wrist. His fingers twist expertly and it’s not long before Youngjo is coming apart underneath him. He can feel Hwanwoong’s seed on the back of his thigh, can hear his breath on the air, and it’s when he becomes so aware of the danger of it all that he teeters over the edge. He comes with cries of Hwanwoong’s name, a demon’s name, a familiar demon’s name and the shame of it makes him want to curl up and spread himself out in supplication all at the same time.</p><p>His vision goes black, and then returns to him in a rush, and his body loses all tension. Staring at the spinning ceiling, he gasps, trembling. Come has spurted white over his stomach. There’s no sound in the room except a shared breathing of their human forms. Then –</p><p>‘You alright, angel?’ Hwanwoong breathes, and his fingers card gently through Youngjo’s hair.</p><p>‘Mm.’</p><p>‘I’ll stay here with you,’ he says, and Youngjo is so relieved that he did not have to ask.</p><p>There’s a part of him that knows he ought to protest, send Hwanwoong away now that this most terrible deed is done. If his superiors swing by the city to seek him out, find him vulnerable like this with the most wanted man for the entire heavenly host, then his life is finished. His reputation will lay in tatters. But he doesn’t protest, because he wants this more than anything. He shifts onto his side and reaches out a hand.</p><p>When Hwanwoong takes it, it is as though everything sinks back into place.</p><p>‘You’re so fucking annoying, you know?’ says Hwanwoong. ‘Every time I find a cute little city to play with, they send you over to ruin my fun.’</p><p>Youngjo pouts and blinks at him. ‘Like this wasn’t fun?’</p><p>Hwanwoong sighs and then nods. ‘This was fun.’</p><p>With a smug smile, Youngjo squeezes his hand. ‘You love it. You love it when you hear there’s an angel in town and you come looking and you can just sense it’s me.’</p><p>‘I do not.’</p><p>‘Yes you do. Don’t think I don’t notice the way your eyes light up when you see me.’ Now that the tension is wearing off from his muscles, he is beginning to return to his verbose, slightly haughty, ways.</p><p>As if to get away from him, Hwanwoong pulls his hand free and stalks to the adjoining bathroom, returning with a towel. Business-like, he wipes off Youngjo’s body, all the while with his chin tilted up. It’s demonic defiance. His face, otherwise, is unreadable as he cleans him up, until he meets his eyes again. They’ve turned black and flat now, the most sensible of his shades. ‘Was it okay?’</p><p>‘Yes. Yes, it was okay.’ He stares at the ceiling, still, listening to Hwanwoong move around the room. ‘I meant what I said, Hwanwoong. You need to be gone by the morning.’</p><p>Hwanwoong pauses. ‘Do you ever just once think that we could wake up together?’</p><p>‘Whether I think about it or not is irrelevant.’</p><p>Hwanwoong swallows before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. The touch is soft, so unlike him, and he cups Youngjo’s cheek with his hand. ‘There’s no bath here, but there’s a shower. Let me take you to clean up.’</p><p>A fleeting moment of self-loathing crawls on Youngjo’s skin, but then he shakes it away. There is no point in ruing the situation they find themselves in. There can be no solution, no <em>resolution</em>. This cycle will go on, and on, until one or the other burns himself out or finds himself in a situation that he cannot escape. If it’s toxic then Youngjo loves the bitter taste. He crawls from the bed and takes Hwanwoong’s hand, allowing him to pull him to the bathroom. It’s not romantic, but it’s not clinical either. There’s a familiarity and a warmth in the way that Hwanwoong arranges his body under the sputtering showerhead.</p><p>Familiarity has kept Youngjo going for centuries.</p><p>‘You did so well for me, tonight,’ murmurs Hwanwoong. He reaches up and runs his hands through Youngjo’s hair, working out the knots. ‘I enjoyed it.’</p><p>‘When will I see you again?’ whispers Youngjo.</p><p>A silence broken only by the stream of water, and then Hwanwoong sighs. ‘Soon. You’ll know the signs.’</p><p>‘Going to tear apart some other town?’</p><p>‘We can’t help what is in our nature, Youngjo,’ he says quietly. There’s nothing demonic about him now, in this moment. He could be human. So could Youngjo. That’s the thing that their shared presence does to one another. It’s surreal, bathing under lukewarm water like this, so close to the embrace of an energy so distant from his, but Youngjo has never been able to shift the addiction. He rests his hands at Hwanwoong’s neck, and tilts the demon’s face up to kiss him. Their lips meet, wet with water, and it’s messy and needy, maybe more so than the sex.</p><p>‘Stay, in the morning,’ says Youngjo when they break apart.</p><p>Hwanwoong meets his gaze and then switches off the water. ‘Maybe.’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
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